Sacrifices
by Eady of Old
Summary: They took her away from him, and Bates struggles in the aftermath. S5E8 SPOILERS


**Summary**: They took her away from him, and Bates struggles in the aftermath. S5E8 SPOILERS

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Downton Abbey.

**A/N: Post S5E8, so be forewarned this story contains spoilers. **I do believe Bates would be horribly conflicted about leaving Anna in London to go back to Downton, so this **is simply me working through his emotions and the events between Anna's arrest and the war memorial dedication ceremony. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

><p>They were taking her.<p>

The shackles around her wrists seemed impossibly large, improbably heavy for her tiny, delicate hands. The fear in her face destroyed him like nothing else in his life ever had. The uniformed police were on either side of her, ready to escort her away from him, ready to take her to jail for a crime he'd always expected them to arrest _him _for committing.

But they were arresting Anna, and nothing else in the world mattered but getting her free.

He looked to her with imploring eyes, expecting to see not only her terror, but disappointment in him as her husband. He was failing her again. He'd failed her with Green, and now he was failing to keep her safe from the police. But there was no recrimination in her expression. Rather, it was as though she could read his thoughts, she knew his mind so well. Anna shook her head at him, a silent plea.

_Don't do anything stupid. Don't get in their way._

But when Vyner ripped her coat from Ms. Baxter's grip and the others had their _hands _on her, marching his wife toward the door, Bates broke. He'd broken before, long ago, on a battlefield in south Africa. He'd broken in prison when a fight with a fellow inmate aggravated his old injury and left him with a permanent and painful limp. And he'd broken once in Mrs. Hughes' sitting room as she explained to him why his wife was a tortured shadow of her former self.

And this time, he broke at the knowledge that Anna, this treasure of a human being who had already been put through so much, was about to be imprisoned for a crime she would never have committed, even though it was a crime against the very man who had violated her so heinously. It was all too much. Bates' fingers curled into a fist as he took a step after Vyner.

Violence was his only thought as he followed the police officers. He had to free Anna, no matter what that meant. If he could free her, he could keep her safe. Behind bars, there were no guarantees.

But Lord Grantham knew his intentions, could perhaps read them in the set of his shoulders, and he grabbed Bates' arm and moved between him and the door.

"Bates," the Earl said, both a warning and an assurance. It was also an order from a commanding officer, from a master to a servant. He was helpless but to obey even though it hurt to let her go without a fight. They both turned to watch Anna marched outside the windows, her small form dwarfed by the men surrounding her. She kept her eyes straight forward, perhaps attempting to hide her fear behind a mask.

And it did not matter that the servants' hall was full of people. Bates could not contain his anger, his fear and frustration. They'd taken Anna from him, done the one thing he'd sworn to her he would not allow. He had _promised _her he would keep anything bad from happening to her, ever again, and once more he had failed her.

"I have to go with her," he stated desperately.

The Earl told him calmly, "They won't let you see her, not tonight."

"But she's all alone."

Mary stepped forward, speaking as much to her father as his valet. "I'm telephoning Murray to see what can be done. But Anna is strong. She'll be all right for now."

Even in her night gown and standing in the very shadow of her father, the woman spoke with authority and confidence, neither of which Bates felt in that moment. But his eyes went to Lord Grantham for reassurance, for the sort of guidance he'd have sought during their service together in the army.

"Bates, walk with me upstairs to my dressing room."

He was torn between leaving through the back door to follow the police and doing as his employer bid. But the moment's indecision was enough for Lord Grantham to capitalize on. He said again with quiet conviction, "Bates..."

The valet closed his eyes with a painful grimace and turned his head away from the door. With slow, faltering steps he followed the Earl up.

* * *

><p>Mary checked in to let them know Murray would be over early in the morning, before they set off to return to Downton, but the lawyer had warned her that the police likely wouldn't allow Anna to see anyone until she was fully booked at the jail, which might take a day or two.<p>

"But I have to see her," Bates insisted, both frantic and weighed down with guilt. He was the one they should have arrested, not Anna. Not his beautiful, innocent wife.

"I'm afraid I still don't know what's going on," His Lordship stated flatly, looking from his valet to his daughter. "Why do they suspect Anna of this man's death, of all people?"

"They have no reason to suspect her, aside from this blasted witness," responded Bates with ill humor. With a sigh of apology as to his language, he elaborated, "Green indicated that he had a quarrel with me, not her."

Mary's eyes darted from her father to the other man quickly before she asked in a low tone, "Do you think they know...?"

He shook his head. "They suspect, milady, but they can't know."

"Know what?" the Earl asked, his tone making it a stern command.

Bates looked back at Mary, resigned. "Should you tell him or should I, milady?"

Frowning, the woman squared her shoulders before turning to her father. "Do you remember when I convinced you to take Barrow rather than Bates to America? It was because Anna needed him here in the wake of..." Her voice faltered momentarily, "...an attack she suffered. At the hands of Mister Green, Lord Gillingham's valet."

Lord Grantham blinked once, then twice as the information set in. "What?" he demanded.

"It was the night of Dame Nellie's concert," Bates input quietly. "Everyone was upstairs, but Anna went down with a headache. He found her there, all alone."

Silence stretched between the three of them, dirty and ugly, as they could not help but imagine Anna's plight on that horrible evening.

"I can't believe this." The Earl turned pale, his expression reflecting shock and revulsion. "That such a thing could happen at Downton-"

"She didn't want anyone to know," Mary stated plainly. "We've kept it to ourselves until now. Only I, Bates, and Mrs. Hughes know. And now you."

Letting out a tortured breath, Bates explained, "But Green apparently had a history of such despicable acts. Other women have come forward since his death, and the police suspect Anna was one of his victims. They believe that is her motive in pushing him into the street."

Of course, Anna was incapable of hurting anyone, let alone committing murder. But the police did not know her as they did.

"And they didn't suspect you?" Lord Grantham asked the valet.

"They did, milord. But I had an alibi. I was in York that day, and besides, the witness said whoever pushed Green was shorter than him."

"And Anna didn't have an alibi, I take it?"

Bates shook his head.

"She was with me in London," Mary said, a little guilty, "but I was at lunch with Tony Gillingham and she was in the city running errands for me. Anna says she wasn't anywhere near Piccadilly that day, but the police obviously don't believe her."

Setting his expression to one of brooding calm, Lord Grantham turned his attention back to the distraught man. "We'll figure this out, Bates, I promise. Murray will see what he can do in our absence."

Sarcastically, Mary noted, "And we'll make sure he hires a different barrister for the trial than we used for yours. His defense before bordered on the incompetent."

"Absence, milord?" the valet asked, ignoring her and focusing on his employer's statement. "I can't leave London, not while Anna is in jail."

"I'm sorry, but we have to go back to Downton in the morning. The memorial ceremony is scheduled in two days, remember?"

Bates did remember, but the event seemed so far away in the wake of Anna's arrest. He had to be at the memorial, of course. It was his duty as a former soldier, as His Lordship's valet, and as a man or honor. But the notion of leaving Anna was unthinkable.

"You can return after the ceremony," Mary stated. "They will likely allow you to see her by then."

Knowing all too well how slow the jail was in processing newly arrested individuals, Bates could not argue. And he could not repay the Crawleys' generosity in fronting the expense for Anna's defense by abandoning his employer just before a major event like the dedication ceremony. But it still felt wrong.

"Yes, of course," he said aloud, almost as a matter of routine. Inside, he was lost and anguished by the events of the evening.

Taking the opportunity to excuse herself, Mary left them alone. As the door clicked behind her, the final shreds of Bates' composure dissolved and tears appeared on his cheeks. While he hated his employer seeing him in such a state, he was suddenly powerless to keep it all in for another moment.

"I never thought they'd take her," he said aloud, in barely a whisper. "I suspected they might arrest me, with my past, with such a flimsy alibi. But not her."

"Bates, my dear fellow..."

The Earl placed a hand on his valet's shoulder. It was a simple gesture but also the sort of touch which almost exceeded the boundaries of their positions. He stood with the man for several minutes as Bates fought against his tears. Few occasions could bring forth such emotions from such a reserved man, but the thought of Anna in prison, facing the same execution he had once faced, was too much to bear in stalwart silence. He had already broken, and now he struggled to keep together the shattered remains.

"I've failed her again," he said, the admission torn angrily from his lips as though he were cursing himself. "After what happened before, I told her I'd protect her. But once more, I have failed her."

"You heard what Lady Mary said - Anna is strong. And she needs you to stay strong for her. Wait until we talk to Murray. From what you've said, the evidence against her must be very weak. Perhaps we can get them to drop the charges."

Bates had no hopes of such an easy resolution. The Scotland Yard detective seemed resolved to find a culprit - any culprit - to take the fall for Green's death.

"I won't let her go to prison for this," Bates vowed. "It isn't worth her life."

"Is it worth yours?" His Lordship challenged, clearly reading the other man's mind, the notion of confessing to killing the death valet just to spare his wife.

Was it worth his life? He did not even need to answer. Anna and everything she had given of herself was worth his very existence and more. She would never ask such a thing of him, but he had _promised_ her...

"If I can spare her even a moment of pain or discomfort, it is worth more than I will ever have to give," Bates responded.

Neither man said anything for several moments.

Finally, Lord Grantham ventured, "Anna loves you. Think of what it would do to her if they executed you."

Bates did know. And that knowledge tore at him more than anything else. But he could not stand by and let them imprison her. Anna was a kind woman, not necessarily fragile, but physically small and delicate. Neither her body or her mind were right for surviving prison.

"I would do anything for her," he confessed. "I wasn't there to protect her when she needed me before, but I can protect her now."

"Don't do anything yet," his employer urged. "Come back to Downton tomorrow. You can return to London after the dedication ceremony and by then perhaps Murray will have more information. We'll get through this, Bates, just as we did before."

The valet stared at him blankly. "I was convicted, your Lordship, and spent eighteen months in prison. That will not happen to Anna."

* * *

><p>The cottage felt empty without her, as though the life they'd built there together was completely gone in her absence. Bates remembered that emptiness from when she'd moved back into the house, back when he thought he'd done something to drive her away. If only it had been that simple.<p>

Bates dressed in silence, moved about their bedroom slowly, listless and tired. Sleep was impossible, not when he imagined Anna in a jail cell every time he closed his eyes. She would be cold, he knew, cold and frightened. The garb and blankets they issued were never enough to stay comfortably warm, and Anna hated being cold. In the winter, she would curl up to him in their bed and to share heat.

Was this what it felt like for her when he was imprisoned? The guilt and worry invaded all his senses, blinded and deafened him with its white noise. He could not eat, could not feel. It was as though everything was suddenly wrong with the world.

He affixed the medals to his jacket carefully, having pulled them out of storage the night before - the King's South African medal, with the bust of King Edward the VII and the Queen's South African medal with Queen Victoria, both from his service in the Boers. The younger men would be wearing medals from the Great War so his would stand out as a bit different, like those adorning his Lordship's uniform. Bates rarely brought out the medals and had never shown them to Anna. While they were prized possessions, they reminded him of the loss of his military career. But for a moment, as he looked in the mirror, he allowed himself to regret that Anna would not see him on this day. He could picture her proud expression at seeing him among the others veterans at the ceremony.

Tears stung at the back of his eyes and he grimaced with the inner pain. He needed Anna. Being without her was not something he'd been prepared to live with, not now, not after everything they'd suffered. Existing without her was not possible, so what did it matter if he confessed and was hung?

Schooling his emotions back into check, Bates set off for the house. Concentrating on work allowed him to get through the morning, but his mind was ever with Anna.

"How are you holding up?" Mrs. Hughes asked him a few hours later, as they made their way to the village. Mister Carson was already there, supervising the preparations, so she had fallen into step beside him.

"Well enough," Bates answered shortly, obviously lying. He had hardly uttered two words together since they'd left London.

"I wish there was something I could tell you to make you feel better. But I think we both know that's impossible," the housekeeper stated. "Just remember that you're in my prayers, you and Anna. And if there is anything I can do to help..."

He looked up at her sharply. "Don't tell the police. About what happened with Anna. Even if it means lying, don't tell them."

With a knowing nod, Mrs. Hughes answered, "They won't hear it from me. I've learned my lesson from your trial, Mister Bates. Sometimes the truth behind a person's innocence can be more damning than anything."

They were quiet the rest of the way to the village.

* * *

><p>Bates watched the ceremony in silence, taking in those around him in addition to the speakers. Anna would want a full report of all the details when he saw her next. And for once, his mood fit the solemn occasion as they honored the dead, so many souls lost too young.<p>

He took a moment from his worry over his wife to think about the men he'd served with so many years before. At the sight of Mr. Mason standing near Daisy and Mrs. Patmore, his thoughts turned to William. What would the man be doing now, had he lived through the war? Would he still be a footman? Or perhaps underbutler rather than Thomas? Would he and Daisy have a brood of children like the family Bates had dreamed of with Anna? It did him no good to think of such things, not while staring at the names on the memorial.

After the ceremony was over and the crowd began to mill about and converse, Lord Grantham left Mrs. Patmore at her nephew's plaque and made his way over to Bates. "That was kind of you," he commented.

The Earl waved off the praise. "I'm just glad I could do something to make it right for her."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment. The voices of others drifted around them as people shared stories, memories. It was a solemn occasion, one for remembering. Grieving. And perhaps for healing.

"I'm glad I came today, milord," Bates said finally. "It was right that I be here, to honor those who gave everything."

"It is also right that you come because you gave of yourself, Bates," the Earl pointed out. "I know that better than anyone, but others should be reminded as well."

Looking out at the crowd of medal bedecked jackets and uniforms, at the other men who had served king and country, Bates allowed himself a small smile. For a moment, he was one among many. Survivors and old soldiers, all of them, regardless of age or disability.

"When will you return to London?" Lord Grantham asked after a time.

"Tomorrow, I believe, with your permission, my lord."

"Of course. I'll ring Murray and have him prepare to meet with you and Anna." He paused. "Just remember Bates, you aren't alone in this, neither of you."

The valet nodded solemnly. "Thank you. For everything."

Bates walked back to the house with the others, his mind slowly returning from thoughts of the ceremony to Anna's plight. The time for recriminations and self loathing was past. His wife needed him to be strong, for her sake as well as his own. And he would get her out of that jail cell, even if it meant giving up everything he had left. Some sacrifices were worth it, after all.

_fin_


End file.
